


it's really you

by mahariels



Series: tamar shepard [7]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Clones, F/M, Identity Issues, Kissing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7274191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahariels/pseuds/mahariels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>garrus never had a problem telling shepard and her clone apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's really you

The worst thing about the Shepard clone is that it’s basically her face. The clone has Shepard’s faint freckles, her thick eyebrows, the dark brown eyes fringed with equally thick eyelashes. The clone has the riot of black hair, pulled severely away from her face. The clone even has Shepard’s frown, with one corner of her mouth tugged down and her lips thinning out. From the beginning, though, he knew it wasn’t her. Even when they were wearing the same uniform, even when they were fighting in close combat, moving so fast that he could barely keep up with who was charging who, he always knew the real Shepard. 

It’s so close but it’s so _wrong_.

The clone couldn’t fake the way she moved, like she meant every punch from the bottom of her heart, like every step was something defiant. The clone couldn’t fake her smile, brief as it was, the broad grin with its chipped tooth, gone as quickly as it appeared. The clone couldn’t fake the warmth in her eyes that hid beneath the hardness of the rest of her. The clone couldn’t fake the way Shepard held herself, like the weight of the universe was on her shoulders, but she didn’t mind one damned bit.

Shepard’s smiling as she slams her boot down on the clone’s fingers. He can hear the crack of bone as it screams and falls. Shepard watches the body twist in the air and drop, with a look of righteous fury like he hasn’t seen since at least yesterday.

She talks Brooks down and into surrendering, though, and that’s when he finally lets go of the tension in his shoulders, one he hadn’t even really been aware that he’d been holding. Idealism through her ruthlessness. It’s _really Shepard_. 

It takes him a while to get her alone—not _really_  alone, because of course the ship’s still crawling with Alliance personnel and military police—and plants a kiss right on her lips, right in front of everyone. Garrus might not be a clone, but he’s not the Garrus he was when he was in the Turian military. Some things, like public displays of affection, would never have flown all those years ago. There’s blowing off steam and there’s kissing your girlfriend without a care in the fucking world. Kissing your human girlfriend, in all of its glorious awkwardness. Even though they’ve been practicing, his mandibles still get in the way and his tongue is a lot more flexible than hers, although she doesn’t seem to mind.

There are a combination of whoops and coughs of embarrassment. He ignores them. Her fingers grip his armor and all he can think about is how relieved he is and how good she tastes and how much he loves her. He wasn’t _really_  worried—she’s Commander Shepard, after all—but even she’s going to meet her limits, one of these days. If anyone could beat her, it was herself.

When he finally pulls away, Tamar looks up at him and blinks. It’s been a _long_  day and she’s still breathing short and sharp, in a way that makes him think she’s probably got a broken rib. He’s no slouch at kissing, but he’s not that full of himself to think it was all for him.

“The _fuck_  was that for?”

“You’re still you,” he says, and she doesn’t soften, exactly, but she doesn’t push him away, either.

“Cerberus couldn’t even make a decent copy,” she says, and looks down briefly at her boots. Still splattered with blood. “Don’t know why you were so worried.”

He knows bravado when he hears it—knows how she’d agonized during the Collector missions, whether she was still _herself_ —but he doesn’t mention that. “You’re hard to imitate,” he agrees. “Probably for the best.”

She grins again. “I don’t think you could handle it, big guy.”

“The _world_  couldn’t,” he says. “Now let’s get you to Dr. Chakwas before you get pneumonia. Again.”

“That was _once_ —!”


End file.
